The Storied History Of The Half-House At 1637 Taylor

The Storied History Of The Half-House At 1637 TaylorPhotos: Geri Koeppel/Hoodline
Holly Erickson
Published on August 20, 2015

You’ve probably never noticed the historic house at 1637 Taylor St., even if you were out admiring the historical architecture in the area. Its most prominent feature is its retaining wall, which dates to 1867 and is an SF landmark. Behind it, you might be able to glimpse a plain-looking green exterior through the trees.

That green home is actually only half of the house that used to stand at the address. The other half is rumored to be somewhere in Potrero Hill, the result of a bitter divorce settlement more than 100 years ago. That's just one of the surprising stories behind the oft-remodeled facade, which has served as a home to numerous legendary artists, including photographer Dorothea Lange. Here are more, gleaned from both historic sources and this author's experience living there. 

The original building was constructed in 1854 by a transplanted New York architect named William Ranlett, and was designed for himself and his family. He also built the more famous and more visible Atkinson house, just down the street.

In that era, fittings and decorations for nicer homes had to be shipped around Cape Horn from cities on the East Coast. With the help of mules to lug the materials up the unpaved hill, Ranlett created a large home that would come to be known as "The House Of Many Corners," because of its staggered set of exterior walls. But business didn't go well for him in San Francisco, so he eventually moved back East.

Theller's historic retaining wall today. 

Samuel Theller bought the house in 1864, when Russian Hill was still on the outskirts of the city, and built the retaining wall soon thereafter, according to the timeline established by the Russian Hill Neighbors group. The home would have had unimpeded views of the burgeoning city below.

There was no civic water system, nor could a well be dug on a hill of bedrock, so a cistern was also constructed to provide the Thellers with water. The latter addition, common to other homes on the Hill, would prove both helpful and problematic over the many decades to come. 

The Thellers allegedly loved entertaining, and happily shared the contents of their bountiful wine cellar. But carriages could not manage the hill. Gentlemen in top hats and ladies in hoop skirts were understandably hesitant to either ride a sweating horse or hike up the hill, regardless of the quality of the wine on offer. So the Thellers sold the house they had built, and moved to a more sociable location. 

The subsequent owner of the house was a white-collar criminal named Everard Milton Morgan, whose wife divorced him in 1897. In an early incarnation of California community property law, they split their assets in half—literally. The southern half of the house is all that remains of the original structure today.

Without any photographs of the original building, some people thought the tale of “half a house” was an urban myth. But a past owner with whom we spoke said they found doorways to nowhere under the plaster. A pencil drawing of the original house, twice as large, also turned up. According to local legends we've heard over the years, the other half of the house is somewhere in Potrero Hill. (If you know of any candidates over there, let us know in the comments.)

The relatively austere exterior of the half-house today.

The crest of Russian Hill, like the greater North Beach area, was a popular spot for artists from its earliest days. Writers like Ina Coolbrith, Gelett Burgess (“I never saw a purple cow”), George Sterling (“The Cool, Grey City of Love”), Bret Harte, Ambrose Bierce, Joaquin Miller, and Jack London all lived, visited, or socialized atop the hill. The artists, many of whom focused on Western themes, were drawn to the feeling of "cultivated rusticity" provided by the rugged hillsides and minimal housing density.

When the fire and earthquake hit in 1906, the retaining wall helped 1637 stay upright, even as the earthquake toppled nearby houses. The cistern, like those located in other houses on the hill, was used by locals to combat the subsequent fire. As the neighborhood discovered, it doesn’t actually take a lot of water to save a house that has not yet caught fire; you just need to dampen roofs, stairways, porches and fences so errant sparks don’t ignite the building.

In the aftermath of the disaster, earthquake cottages sprang up on land made barren by the fire. Meant as temporary dwellings, they served as low-rent housing for many years afterward. Struggling artists who didn’t mind climbing the hills and rickety staircases made them their own, for the low price of $30 a month.   

The first-edition Grapes Of Wrath cover, by Elmer Hader. (Photo: Scribbling On Fire)

Rose Wilder and her mother, famed children’s author Laura Ingalls Wilder, lived in Russian Hill during the 1910s. Though they didn't reside at 1637, Laura mentioned it in an October 1915 letter to her husband, Manly. “There is a house part way down the hill where we live ... the house [was] cut straight down through the middle." She goes on to describe the stone wall, iron gate, and many stairs, all of which are still there today. 

Wilder visited 1637 several times because her daughter's former studiomate, an artist and children's book illustrator, Berta Hoerner, resided there. Berta was the one who suggested Laura turn her rejected adult pioneer novel into a children's book with illustrations—which ultimately became the Little House On The Prairie series. 

Berta later married illustrator Elmer Hader. Although they eventually moved to New York, they remained lifelong friends of Rose Wilder. They became collaborative children's book authors and illustrators, winning the Caldecott Award. Elmer also created the iconic cover for the first edition of John Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath. A dual biography, Berta and Elmer Hader: A Lifetime of Art was published in 2013; in 2014, the San Francisco Public Library honored the Haders with an exhibit of their work. 

"San Francisco Bay From Russian Hill," by Maynard Dixon, circa 1916. (Image: Coeur D'Alene Art Auction)

Maynard Dixon, the painter of the American West, and his wife, famed photographer Dorothea Lange, rented one of the earthquake cottages on Broadway in the early 1920s. By that point, 1637 had been converted into apartments, and phone directories from the era reference Dixon and Lange as occupants by the middle part of the decade. 

The couple lived with Maynard’s daughter, Consie, their two sons, and various relations and protégés on the top floor. They loved to entertain fellow artists, including photographer Imogen Cunningham and her husband, printmaker Roi Partridge. Dixon’s painting studio was a steep walk away on Montgomery Street, while Dorothea’s portrait photography studio was at 540 Sutter St. Past owners have said that Dixon planted a couple of poplar trees out front—the one that remains today is believed to be his.

Unlike the Thellers' guests, the couple's visitors enjoyed paved streets and indoor plumbing, but there were still numerous steps to climb, which deterred socializing. Dorothea and her stepdaughter fought bitterly, and eventually, so did Maynard and Dorothea. The pair started living in their respective studios, and later divorced, with both moving out by 1932.

In 1946, an architect and sculptor named Jacques Schnier restored 1637 to a single-family home, in which he intended to spend the rest of his days. But it turned out that the area wasn’t suburban enough for this family; their children’s nanny had to walk to Huntington Park for the kids to play. So they sold the house and moved to the East Bay, where the grass, if not greener, was at least closer.

Schnier's sculptures can still be found at Building One at Treasure Island (where they were created for the 1939 Golden Gate International Exposition) and outside of San Francisco General Hospital.

A Schnier sculpture on Treasure Island. (Photo: SF Art & Architecture)

In the 1990s, a writer, a singer, and a downtown art gallery owner lived in the flats, enjoying a hidden rose and citrus garden graced with sculptures from the gallery, a warm microclimate, and odd acoustics that made the bustle from Chinatown distinctly audible.

Ever since the cistern had become obsolete, every subsequent tenant had complained that it leaked. By 1996, it had become a walk-in closet, albeit one dotted with buckets and bowls. Given the current drought, perhaps it's time to bring it back. 

Of course, in a city where housing is becoming nearly as precious as water, the value of 1637 Taylor just keeps going up. One of the apartment units apparently sold for nearly $800,000 earlier this year, according to real estate website Zillow, which estimates the home's current price at over $4 million.