When it comes to European-style residential construction, there isn’t much history of it here on the West Coast. Travel across the country and you’ll find houses built 300 years ago that are still standing; hop the Atlantic, and there are homes twice that age. Here in San Diego, though, the Sherman-Doig House, one of several built by early developer John Sherman (cousin to a U.S. Senator of the same name, as well as General William Tecumseh Sherman) in 1887 is about as old as our houses get. Aged 135 years, the 4058-square-foot mansion standing along the edge of Interstate 5 at 136 W. Fir Street in Bankers Hill is the oldest home currently for sale in the county.
“This Grand Victorian Lady...proudly represents a bygone era,” opens the Zillow pitch to prospective buyers before going on to promote the mixed-use potential for the property — apparently, the two top floors are zoned residential, while the lower floors are slated for commercial use. Indeed, when the Reader surveyed the city’s 20 remaining Victorian homes in 1999 (only 13 of which are in private hands, the remainder serve as museum pieces), the building was being used as a day spa. Let’s have a look around, shall we?
Back in ‘99, we reported that the exterior of the home was well-maintained, and the current listing mentions a new roof having been installed seven years ago, along with more recent paving of the driveway. Also, a fresh coat of canary yellow paint greets us as we climb the red stairs to the front entry. Around back, we see a red brick patio with what looks like an addition built onto the lower, fourth level — a level we didn’t see when coming in. A plaque on the wall tells us that we’re outside of San Diego Historical Site #104 before we get to look across the freeway (luckily, mostly obscured by trees) for a view of the downtown skyline.
From there, we’re inside, looking across the granite countertop at a perfectly adequate kitchen. Judging from the stone and the white appliances, I’d say this room was last remodeled sometime in the early 2000s, just before stainless steel became the go-to finish for stoves and dishwashers and the like. The windows have some attractive stained glass treatments (and we’ll see more of those throughout the house). I question their authenticity, however, only because I’ve never seen stained glass on windows that open and close. The living room is cozy, with wood floors, staircase, and window casing that looks like it could be original and well-preserved. The floral wallpaper and furniture also look like they could be period-authentic; the flat-screen TV on top of a hutch is the only nod to modern times in here. The same goes for a sitting room that appears adjacent to a bedroom in the next shot.
When we actually get into a bedroom, it seems rather cramped, with a pair of single beds occupying most of the floor space. A pleasant-looking chest of drawers below some stained-glass cabinets appear to be built into the wall. The next bedroom is slightly more spacious, though I’m curious as to why there appears to be both a king bed and a single present, and why there are a pair of hotel-style suitcase racks at the foot of the larger bed.
Now we’re going to step outside quickly to look at a rusty metal statue of what looks like a Spanish conquistador holding a broom as if it’s a spear. I could do without this.
Next, we’re in a bathroom that features a unique hammered-copper sink and a spacious shower — though I worry about the huge window that goes almost to the floor inside the shower. Seems like it would be being dangerous to slip and fall into it.
Okay, I take back what I said about the other bedroom being small. The one we’ve now entered has what looks to be a queen bed that, even laid out lengthwise, takes up the entirety of the space, with barely enough room to slide around it on the sides. I had an apartment like this once, and I do not want it back.
Another bathroom has a modern-looking corner shower and what might be a newish pedestal sink, but one of those antique toilets where the tank is detached from the bowl and sits almost at ceiling height. This is actually kind of cool, though the room’s gaudy pink-and-black floral wallpaper is not for me.
Another bedroom has what seems to be a fairly low ceiling height (they had to carve out a niche to fit the window) and it’s covered in gold tiles. A canned light in the ceiling robs the room of its otherwise-appropriate Victorian vibe, sadly.
The next room is confusing. There’s a big double door — is this the entry? Why is there what looks to be a wet bar with another of those copper sinks, and why is the sink topped with wood? Why is there a tiny refrigerator sneaking into the corner of the shot? Why are there curtains on a rod waiting to be pulled over the doors?
We get a few more rooms, including a rather luxurious bath with separate shower and enormous marble-surrounded jetted tub (a bathroom which opens, via a rather large pocket door, into a hallway), some more tiny bedrooms (there are nine in total, quite a lot even for 4000 square feet), a hall covered in hats, and another kitchen that seems to occupy two rooms, with the dishwasher, microwave, and sink in one room and the range and fridge in another.
“You have to tour this magnificent property to appreciate its versatility,” the listing tells us, and I believe this. There’s a lot of great stuff going on here, but a lot of it also leaves me confused. Unfortunately, this is a common affliction of very old houses that have been repurposed over the years as tastes and modes of living change.
Public records list the Sherman-Doig’s owners as the Sober Life Living Project LLC. The company purchased the home in 2020 for a reported $1.75 million. It was re-listed in mid-June, and the original asking price of $2,725,000 has been reduced six times, most recently in late October to $2,395,000.
When it comes to European-style residential construction, there isn’t much history of it here on the West Coast. Travel across the country and you’ll find houses built 300 years ago that are still standing; hop the Atlantic, and there are homes twice that age. Here in San Diego, though, the Sherman-Doig House, one of several built by early developer John Sherman (cousin to a U.S. Senator of the same name, as well as General William Tecumseh Sherman) in 1887 is about as old as our houses get. Aged 135 years, the 4058-square-foot mansion standing along the edge of Interstate 5 at 136 W. Fir Street in Bankers Hill is the oldest home currently for sale in the county.
“This Grand Victorian Lady...proudly represents a bygone era,” opens the Zillow pitch to prospective buyers before going on to promote the mixed-use potential for the property — apparently, the two top floors are zoned residential, while the lower floors are slated for commercial use. Indeed, when the Reader surveyed the city’s 20 remaining Victorian homes in 1999 (only 13 of which are in private hands, the remainder serve as museum pieces), the building was being used as a day spa. Let’s have a look around, shall we?
Back in ‘99, we reported that the exterior of the home was well-maintained, and the current listing mentions a new roof having been installed seven years ago, along with more recent paving of the driveway. Also, a fresh coat of canary yellow paint greets us as we climb the red stairs to the front entry. Around back, we see a red brick patio with what looks like an addition built onto the lower, fourth level — a level we didn’t see when coming in. A plaque on the wall tells us that we’re outside of San Diego Historical Site #104 before we get to look across the freeway (luckily, mostly obscured by trees) for a view of the downtown skyline.
From there, we’re inside, looking across the granite countertop at a perfectly adequate kitchen. Judging from the stone and the white appliances, I’d say this room was last remodeled sometime in the early 2000s, just before stainless steel became the go-to finish for stoves and dishwashers and the like. The windows have some attractive stained glass treatments (and we’ll see more of those throughout the house). I question their authenticity, however, only because I’ve never seen stained glass on windows that open and close. The living room is cozy, with wood floors, staircase, and window casing that looks like it could be original and well-preserved. The floral wallpaper and furniture also look like they could be period-authentic; the flat-screen TV on top of a hutch is the only nod to modern times in here. The same goes for a sitting room that appears adjacent to a bedroom in the next shot.
When we actually get into a bedroom, it seems rather cramped, with a pair of single beds occupying most of the floor space. A pleasant-looking chest of drawers below some stained-glass cabinets appear to be built into the wall. The next bedroom is slightly more spacious, though I’m curious as to why there appears to be both a king bed and a single present, and why there are a pair of hotel-style suitcase racks at the foot of the larger bed.
Now we’re going to step outside quickly to look at a rusty metal statue of what looks like a Spanish conquistador holding a broom as if it’s a spear. I could do without this.
Next, we’re in a bathroom that features a unique hammered-copper sink and a spacious shower — though I worry about the huge window that goes almost to the floor inside the shower. Seems like it would be being dangerous to slip and fall into it.
Okay, I take back what I said about the other bedroom being small. The one we’ve now entered has what looks to be a queen bed that, even laid out lengthwise, takes up the entirety of the space, with barely enough room to slide around it on the sides. I had an apartment like this once, and I do not want it back.
Another bathroom has a modern-looking corner shower and what might be a newish pedestal sink, but one of those antique toilets where the tank is detached from the bowl and sits almost at ceiling height. This is actually kind of cool, though the room’s gaudy pink-and-black floral wallpaper is not for me.
Another bedroom has what seems to be a fairly low ceiling height (they had to carve out a niche to fit the window) and it’s covered in gold tiles. A canned light in the ceiling robs the room of its otherwise-appropriate Victorian vibe, sadly.
The next room is confusing. There’s a big double door — is this the entry? Why is there what looks to be a wet bar with another of those copper sinks, and why is the sink topped with wood? Why is there a tiny refrigerator sneaking into the corner of the shot? Why are there curtains on a rod waiting to be pulled over the doors?
We get a few more rooms, including a rather luxurious bath with separate shower and enormous marble-surrounded jetted tub (a bathroom which opens, via a rather large pocket door, into a hallway), some more tiny bedrooms (there are nine in total, quite a lot even for 4000 square feet), a hall covered in hats, and another kitchen that seems to occupy two rooms, with the dishwasher, microwave, and sink in one room and the range and fridge in another.
“You have to tour this magnificent property to appreciate its versatility,” the listing tells us, and I believe this. There’s a lot of great stuff going on here, but a lot of it also leaves me confused. Unfortunately, this is a common affliction of very old houses that have been repurposed over the years as tastes and modes of living change.
Public records list the Sherman-Doig’s owners as the Sober Life Living Project LLC. The company purchased the home in 2020 for a reported $1.75 million. It was re-listed in mid-June, and the original asking price of $2,725,000 has been reduced six times, most recently in late October to $2,395,000.